What Remains
by Soupytwist
Summary: Spoilers for SEEING RED, End of Season Six. My own Season Seven. What happens after Spike leaves, and The Scoobies take out Willow.
1. Prologue

1 Prologue: The Aftermath  
  
  
  
There could be no funeral, there were no bodies found. The Rosenberg and Harris families became convinced that Xander and Willow had eloped and run away together, it explained so much that had happened over the previous year (Xander calling the wedding off, Willow never coming home) that the remaining Scoobies could not convince them otherwise.  
  
The death of Tara MacClay remained an unsolved case but was closed when the whereabouts of the only suspect could not be found, and all signs pointed to him committing suicide.  
  
Buffy and Dawn were left alone when Giles returned to England. Anya was still running the Magic Box, and despite her outing as a Vengeance Demon, Buffy began counting on her friendship more and more.  
  
Slaying continued as usual, and Buffy had settled into a lonely routine of patrol and work at the DoubleMeat Palace until it was destroyed in the late summer by a grease fire.  
  
Fire.  
  
  
  
Willow had snapped. She had regressed back into the darkest magicks and they had failed her. She couldn't bring Tara back from death. Revenge was the only thing that made sense, taking the life of the person that had taken the life of her only love.  
  
Warren would suffer and die like no other enemy had. The tortures Willow had visited on Glory for disabling Tara were nothing compared to the horror that she had prepared for Warren. He died screaming, the power crackling all around, the magical fire pealing back his skin like crumpled newspaper in a campfire.  
  
They had all tried to stop her. Buffy was no match for the witch's power, Giles couldn't tap the source of her power to stop her, and Xander couldn't reach his friend. The magic was too strong.  
  
In a final act of guilt and despair, Willow tried to take her own life, but Xander got in the way. As she ran toward them, Buffy could see him screaming as he disappeared over the edge of the cliff, Willow grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, her small frame too light to anchor him, her shock too severe to work any magicks, the fall too far for either to survive. All Buffy could see when she got to the edge of the cliff were waves crashing against the rocks below.  
  
The next thing Buffy felt was Dawn pulling her back, holding her against the tide of her own grief.  
  
Now Buffy worked as a receptionist at the local funeral home, where she helped other people in their time of need and kept a close eye on the newly undead while Dawn entered her junior year of high school and learned to drive.  
  
They tried to keep their heads up and remain hopeful about their futures, leaving the pain of the past dead and buried. 


	2. It's Really Not My Home

As the sun rose, swirls of dust wafted up across the horizon. They were the call signs from the large animal herds that moved slowly towards a watering hole that was left over from the too short rainy season. He had watched it for months, never tiring of the endless repetition; watching the morning trek to the watering hole became his daily baptismal by fire, he stood under the cover of a blanket until his skin smoked uncontrollably, retreating to the hut at the last possible moment, always unable to accept the inevitable truth: that he had not changed since his arrival here, that he had not beaten the demon.  
  
The sun was high enough now that he could make out the colors of the bush lands, greens and browns mingling with the blurry blue and gold of the morning sky. Spike threw off the heavy blanket and began walking toward the watering hole, his skin began cracking and peeling as the heat of his internal combustion forced it's way out. Flames began licking up his clothes, lashing out at the nearby brush, his burnt flesh blowing away in the dawn's breeze; he left a trail of spent tinder and ash behind him. Spike was not much more than a skeleton when he stepped into the watering hole, the water hissed and bubbled as it engulfed him.  
  
His last conscious thought was of Sunnydale and how he had left, a shell of himself bent on becoming what he had been before The Slayer.  
  
He had never intended to hurt her, but Dawn had been right, he had hurt Buffy. He had tried to take from her what she, Hell, what he held most valuable about her. If Buffy weren't as physically strong as she was, he would have raped her. For any rationalization he had, Dawn had made him realize that there was no excuse. Thankfully, she had beaten him back, and he realized what he had almost done and he knew he had to change. Spike wanted the chip out, his soul back, anything to prove that he could change. So, he came to Africa for his salvation, and he had found none. The demon shaman that had held so much promise in Sunnydale proved to be nothing more than a trickster who used his natural demon abilities to manipulate the superstitions of the people of the African Savannah.  
  
Spike had lost hope and had finally gained the courage to die, which is why when he woke up under the clear and starry night sky after his watering hole sacrifice, Spike couldn't help but mutter, "Bloody Hell."  
  
His skin, though pale, was intact and no sign of burning or bone could be found. Naked and trembling, Spike stood up in what was now a dry lake bed and was shocked at the sight of bleached animal bones glowing under the starlight.  
  
He couldn't have survived the sunshine, "Bloody Hell."  
  
"You keep saying that, William. What does it mean?"  
  
Spike whirled to find the source of the voice. "Who's there? What happened?"  
  
"You know me, William. I came to tell you what happened."  
  
It was a woman's voice, and it was familiar, at first Spike thought it might be Drusilla, but Dru was never this straightforward. It wasn't one of the Scoobies… "Anya?"  
  
"No, William, not Anya." He turned slowly and walked out of the lakebed, trying to remember to whom the voice belonged.  
  
In the darkness in front of him, Spike could see the woman walking forward and become illuminated as if from inside. She was small and blonde, and she carried with her a blanket.  
  
"Tara? But, how?"  
  
The young witch smiled at him and wrapped him in the blanket she had brought, "Magic, or something like it."  
  
Spike stood shuddering, "So, what happened here? Why am I alive?"  
  
"William, you made it happen. You came here to the cradle of civilization, and you damned your existence. The earth gave this place up to save you." Tara gestured to the dry lakebed and the bleached animal bones, "Can't you remember?"  
  
She touched her hand to Spike's forehead and he was awash in images, the water being absorbed into his burning body and carrying with it the essence of every plant and animal that had lined the watering hole. Whole elephants were engulfed in holy flames as the painful earth magic worked its way into his body. The process had left him thoroughly healed and exhausted, he had collapsed and slept in the dry lakebed.  
  
Spike sat down with a thud as the vision left him, "So, now what? Do I have soul? Am I human?"  
  
Tara, still smiling, looked down at him, "No, William. No soul, not human."  
  
"After that I'm still the same? Bloody chip and all?" He pressed his fist against his forehead, hoping that if he pressed hard enough he'd be able to tell if the chip was still in his head.  
  
"No chip." Tara was still smiling at him as Spike looked up. He was even more confused now, not sure of why he had been saved.  
  
"So I'm the full-on Big Bad, then?" Spike felt incredulous. "The earth saved me so I could be an evil, soulless thing again?"  
  
The smile fell from Tara's face, and she kneeled down in front of him, "Isn't that what you wanted? To get the chip out?"  
  
Spike pulled the blanket about him tighter, surprised at the amount of warmth and light that Tara was giving off. He looked away from her, out towards the West, regarding the stars and the skyline. "That's why I tried to end it, y'know, I was done being that thing, a vamp."  
  
"You're not a vampire." Spike looked back at her, surprised, "You're not anything. You're a body, without a soul or a demon inhabiting it. No chip to govern your actions."  
  
"I'm an animated corpse?" Spike knew what that meant: slow rot. "I'm a zombie?"  
  
"No, William. You're not a zombie. You're full of earth magic." Tara reached out and stroked his head, "I have to go now, and so do you."  
  
"Where? I don't understand…"  
  
"Just think of Dawn and you'll understand."  
  
Tara stood walked past Spike, and he scrambled to follow her, but by the time he turned around she was gone.  
  
He hollered out into the darkness, "What do you mean 'think of Dawn?' What does she have to do with me?" But he got no answer and no mystical directive.  
  
He looked about him, again considering the bones of the animals and noticed that some of the elephants had very large tusks. Walking towards the hulking skeletons, Spike mumbled, to no one in particular, "I wonder how much ivory is going for these days?" 


End file.
